“It could get very messy,” he said and slipped his finger from my mouth and set to caressing my neck, lowering his mouth to my ear, feathering kisses there.
“Incredibly messy,” I agreed. “I’m the sister.”
“And I’m the best friend.”
“And if we do something like this, we’ll have to take it to the grave, despite the birthdays and Christmases and Thanksgivings we’ll be sharing. Because we both know this is—” I was putting it out there. And it was probably for the best if we were going to ride this bullet train to his bedroom.
He didn’t rush me, didn’t ask me to finish that thought. Instead he waited patiently, those bottomless blue eyes both aware of what I was saying and completely open in a way that was not his regular M.O. I continued. “—just a one-time thing. We’re two people caught up in the emotion of the day, not to mention the vodka of the day, and tomorrow, we’ll go back to the way things were before.”
“You mean you pretending to hate me, and me pretending not to love your little act?”
I startled. “That’s not how it is.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!” Was it?
“Sorry. I must have had it wrong.” Again, that smile that said otherwise.
He was infuriating. And yet, the way he looked at me, like he knew me, had always known me, and now was going to show me—well, that part won in a clean sweep.
“Can you stop talking now?” I said.
Bless him, he knew when to shut up. He took my hand and led me to the next waiting driver in the looped drive, who popped out to let us into the back of the top-of-the-line Jaguar.
“Are we going to your home, Mr. Mitchell?”
“Right now, it doesn’t feel like we have any other choice. You feel the same, don’t you?”
I nodded.
Though Liam held me close into his chest all the way to Russian Hill, he didn’t resume the frenzied passion we’d indulged in at the wedding venue. This was tender and beautiful and terrifying because it was so clearly not just lust, but something deeper, which felt so good.
My world spun a bit and I let my eyes lower, resting into the sexy, manly scent of him and his expensive cologne. He held me tighter.
This is not right, I thought as I drifted off. We’re supposed to be tearing each other’s clothes off.
Next thing I knew, Liam was standing over me in the space of the open car door, trying to lift me. I’d fallen asleep in the car. How embarrassing! “Are you trying to carry me?”
“Why not? What’s a simple fireman’s carry? You can’t weigh much.”
I sat up straight, gently shoved him back out of the car and slid over, twisting to lower my feet to the sidewalk. “I’m plenty capable of walking myself.”
“Of course,” he said.
But I felt disoriented as he led me to his front door. Wow. This place was gorgeous. Straight out of a past century. The wedding was in the wine country. We’d been driving a couple hours. And now that the Nostrovia had mostly worn off, I was feeling a bit dusty. This is a bad idea was what I should have been thinking in my sudden clarity, only I wasn’t.
I was looking at the way his fingers looked around my ribcage. And that didn’t leave room for thinking about much else. Shit, he was incredible. More so because he’s so into you right now. Yes, this was mortifying but true. The way he made me feel since that first look at the wedding was like a drug, and I couldn’t get enough.
He led me from the street, down a set of stairs to a beautiful cobble-stoned alley. The house looked at least a hundred years old from the outside, timber boards painted in pristine white, leaded glass windows with their cheery sashes flanked the black door.
But inside was something quite different. The house had clearly been renovated in that special mix of old and new that highlighted the best of both the original architecture and the clever rearrangement of space that created the brightest, open, coziest homes.
My eyes roamed the concrete floors, the blonde wood feature wall, the high ceiling with its rafters. “Nice place,” I said.
“Thanks.”
He reached for my hand and walked us to the kitchen. Liam pulled two glasses from a slide out drawer in a bank of white drawers in a massive Carrera marble-topped island. The fridge was covered in the same glossy white finish as the cabinetry, which ran the height of the double-height wall. It was beautiful, the kind of place you’d wake up in and want to jump out of bed just to spend more time there.
“Thank you,” I said as he held out one of the glasses. He picked up his and clinked it with mine.
“Nostrovia,” he said, that grin, those eyes sparkling. Oh, the tone of that had gained some subtext.
I smiled and couldn’t help but get caught up in our connection, our fun. “Nostrovia.” I sipped, my eyes closing in the pleasure of my thirst quenched.
I yelped, startled at the sound of his glass smashing on the concrete beneath our feet.
“What the—”
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this night to end. The way I feel, well, I figure we shouldn’t change a thing. It’s all been mind-blowing so far. Go ahead.” He tipped his head toward my outstretched arm.
I inspected the glass in my hand. It was a lovely thing—one of those Turkish tumblers with the raised nubs and paisleys. I shifted my gaze back to Liam, a dubious expression no doubt on my face. He dipped his chin.
Quite dramatically, I lifted the glass high, staring him down with every bit of electricity coursing through me, and hurled it at the ground. We both looked down at the splinters at our feet.
He crunched over them and wrapped his arms around me. His kiss wasn’t soft. It was crushing, intense. I met him with the same passion and urgency. His hand slid down my back, cupped my ass. I squirmed as he leaned into me, the feel of his rigid dick sending shockwaves through me.
My dress was floaty, light as air, and it bunched up in his hands like tissue as he slowly lifted the hem. In his fists, he held the material at the tops of my thighs, and I shimmied, like I couldn’t wait for the barrier between us to be removed. He smiled into our kiss. Oh, he was good at this.
He slipped it higher, and there was my ass, exposed in its lacy pale pink panties. It was a beautiful, delicate set that I’d splurged on to wear with the pink dress Scarlett and I had settled on at the bridal shop. Had I pictured Liam seeing them? Hell no. But I’d certainly never wear them again without thinking about him.
He moaned as his hands cupped me and pulled us closer.
“I had a feeling,” he said, retreating from our kiss to crane his neck around and look.
“You had a feeling about what?” I watched him looking at me with pleasure, and shit if my lust didn’t double in intensity.
“That you were hiding something incredible under those tight jeans you’re always wearing.”
“So, what you’re saying is you’ve been thinking about me.”
“Is that what I’m saying?”
“Sounds like it.”
“We hear what we want to hear, isn’t that what they say?”
“Right now, what I want to hear is you screaming my name.”
Our eyes danced. He slipped the dress up slowly, this time, revealing my bra, my nipples hard and sensitive. The swish of the dress’s material grazed them over the lace barrier.